


Wear the Dress Your Mother Wore

by Not So (Silberias)



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: Ascanio is the Smartest Sforza, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Not%20So
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Child, you're a woman now, your heart and soul are free<br/>I will hold a lighted lamp and we shall walk together</p>
<p>Let your hair hang down, wear the dress your mother wore<br/>Let me sleep beside you"</p>
<p>Ascanio Sforza sided with those who play the long game, but theirs looks short-sighted indeed in contrast to his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brush the Dust of Youth from Your Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Rolling around in the Borgias tag on tumblr showed me the glory that is Ascanio/Lucrezia. It's totally a crackship, yeah, but I don't even care. It's a beautiful ship that I wish more people thought of! I mean, basically Ascanio is the smartest Sforza and he's gained a weird level of trust with the rest of the Borgias (yeah, they don't trust him completely until well into season 3, but all the same who does Rodrigo lean on when not on Cesare?).
> 
> Title is taken from Bowie (explanation for THAT below), and is basically a reference to Lucrezia taking up the place in Ascanio's life that Vanozza & Giulia alternately take in Rodrigo's.
> 
> There's a certain sense of forbidden sensuality in Bowie music where he speaks things into words without shame for what the words are--so I've been using his lyrics as a north-star for what I've been trying to do with some of these Borgia fics. I would most definitely give "Let me sleep beside you" a listen before you plunge on into this fic. I didn't write it with the song in mind, but after listening to it tonight I really do feel it fits the story nearly completely.

Cardinal Ascanio Sforza had long ago decided he would be Pope. He would not rush things, he would not push the least bit harder than absolutely necessary. Where Pope Innocent had bargained future promotions, where Pope Alexander had outright bought votes, he would instead wait patiently and become a trusted rock. Pope Innocent had marked him loyal, and Pope Alexander now marked him steadfast, and over the years the College of Cardinals had begun to look to him for stability. For the measured voice and no whiff of plotting—the reverse of what Alexander offered them., the buffer between them and the Borgia thirst for power.

What was truly ironic was that he lusted for power just as mightily as any Borgia but buried that lust so deeply that only Rodrigo Borgia had ever managed to get so much as a glimpse.

He was faced with a choice when his family made a move to remove the Borgia family along with Pope Alexander. He could choose to hope that his cousin Catherina was making a good choice and had the financial or other resources to buy the papacy as Cesare Borgia had for Pope Alexander—or he could choose to follow the path he’d long ago marked out for himself and perhaps add extra marks for loyalty and even a few for bravery if only in whispers.

It was difficult for any man in the Italian peninsula to abandon his family—even harder for a man of Sforza blood. Instead of raising the planted blade towards the sleeping pope, Ascanio called for Borgia guards to help him oversee Alexander’s slumbers. Their presence would ensure his continued honesty, at the least.

He chose to do then, in the midst of creaking leather and rattling steel and the labored breathing of the ailing pope, in earnest what he had long done as affectation: he prayed the rosary, meditating on his sin against his family’s trust and on the dear hope that this was the right path to follow.

He must have dozed off at some point in the lateness of the evening, for he awoke at the first chirrups of birds—hours before dawn, but yet God and His creatures were awake. Across the bed from him was the wraith of vengeance that was Cesare Borgia, while behind were the rest of the Borgias who slept fitfully in chairs and windowsills, and then Vanozza de Catannei who knelt next to Cesare. In one hand she held the rosary and the other she held the pope’s.

“I heard an interesting story, Cardinal, at my mother’s palace from a servant of death. A man who said the Sforzas had brought him hence, and that while I saved my family my father was likely choking on his own blood.”

Though his neck pained him greatly, Ascanio did not roll it to clear the muscles. Instead he sat up straighter on his aching knees and met Cesare’s eyes.

“You hear such interesting stories in Rome, my lord,” he tried to keep his tone as even and quiet as possible. Vanozza watched him with the same brightly interested eyes as any Borgia, and Ascanio wondered if it was her presence that had stayed Cesare’s hand. It was well known that she could control her children better than even the pope could. He would be honest, then.

“But this story was nearly true,” he murmured, standing and going to the cross he’d been told of. He’d not even touched it, so even as he grasped it he hoped that he’d been told a lie. The blade came out with a little more force than he’d really expected, but then that meant it would not so easily be discovered. _I would never have gotten away with it, dear cousin, and you would have left me to hang by my own rope,_ he said to himself as he held the knife out to Cesare by the blade, the handle towards the dangerous young man. With uncanny grace the pope’s son stood and crossed the room.

“It was to have been you?”

“Indeed, they were going to try to make me pope—or at least that is the pretty thing they told me.” He kept his voice cool and disaffected, despite the flare of panic he felt as Cesare took the weapon from him. Vanozza de Catannei loved her family more than she feared bloodshed, it was well known. It was her who had most exulted in the death of Ascanio’s cousin Giovanni—no matter Lucrezia’s emphatic declarations that the man had been a pig rightly put to death. Cesare Borgia would kill him in an instant if his mother commanded it.

“My Micheletto could have told you, whatever they’re paying you I’ll double it—but I—“

They left it unspoken. A path, however uncertain, to the chair of St. Peter had been closed perhaps forever and there was no certainty that loyalty to the Borgias could open up a similar path in the future. He had burned his bridges well and fully this night. Except there was a determined set to the jaws of both mother and son.

“Catherina Sforza had no better way to fulfill her promise to you than I do, Cardinal, but I vow that I will see you repaid for my father’s life.”

“Lucrezia may not have her Neapolitan, then, he cannot give you what you need, my son. He is a pretty toy but no more. You and I both know that, and His Holiness will see it in time. If we dispose of Bisceglie now it may yet be a bloodless break.” Vanozza’s tone was not one of council, instead one of direction. At this Ascanio had a stroke of brilliance. To hold a viper you had to hold its head—if it got away from you, you were dead. But if you kept your hold firm, you could direct it’s fangs as you would. A dangerous endeavor indeed, yes, but perhaps well worth it—he was a Sforza, handling snakes came as second nature to him.

“We must wait for the Holy Father’s recovery for I would rather put it to his ears as well but I may have a plan to help with that without seeming fickle in the eyes of your enemies,” he paused then, glancing meaningfully at Vanozza, “a bloodless break with a powerless state. Who benefits from killing all of the Borgias save one?”

Gabriella would have to be sent to a convent for a time—perhaps forever, he thought with a pang—and become his Vanozza. If he played his cards correctly, and he very much intended to, his La Bella Farnese would instead be La Madonna Borgia. His fate was already tied to that of the Borgia family, he might as well make the bond as secure as he could.

Borgias thrived on love of any sort—his twisting friendship with the pope was that of a brother, the support he both garnered from and gave to Cesare Borgia, the sarcastic comments he traded with Vanozza—and Lucrezia Borgia had long felt unloved. He could give her the attention she craved, and her happiness would give him the power over the pope that he needed.

“Sforza…” Cesare murmured before his mother shushed him with a shake of her head.

“A bloodless break leaves a bruise. A stain—a stain on the kingdom of Naples.”


	2. A Game Where the Winner Never Wins

“I do not like it,” Lucrezia sulked as he took off his cardinal’s robes button by button. She lay, still fully dressed, in the middle of his bed. _Nor did Gabriella like this plan much. I had to beg on my knees for her to leave under her own power, but she was obedient and so too shall you be._ Still, he knew that the loss of her pet duke stung her less than the fear of her father’s death just weeks ago. Men like Ascanio were few in this world where family bonds of blood were the only thing you could trust, and so he easily comprehended that Lucrezia valued her father’s placement in the world more than the boy from Naples.

It was not his game to remain so blindly loyal, but he did not fault others who played their own game in such a manner. So long as they played it well.

“You need only be seen entering every so often and leaving in some state of dishevelment. I am one of those apparently rare men who touches only what he’s been asked to,” his tone did not deviate from his usual reserve despite a hot feeling of pride at his words. He’d never been close to her first husband and had had no indication of the cruel streak this golden woman had endured. If he would have warned the pope or not of that cruelty was a different story than what he needed to tell Lucrezia Borgia tonight.

“Why? Why obtain permission, askance?” Now in just his long shift he flopped down on the bed with a deep sigh, staring up at the canopy for a moment after her question. She turned onto her side and one of her tiny, delicate fingers traced over his cheekbone. Ascanio didn’t flinch from her touch, already boxing up his affections for Gabriella and setting them aside for more favorable seasons. His tender thoughts must belong now to this woman who was barely out of childhood, and the toddling son she brought with her to his house.

Her engagement had ended hastily after it ‘came to light’ that Naples had attacked the Borgia family and the Pope in the dark of the night. Lucrezia had been moved to the palace of the Vice Chancellor where she might be better guarded. Ascanio would look to the world like he was like any other man with working eyes—sending away his mistress, quickly taking up with La Madonna Borgia. And all this, too, before admitting himself the father of Lucrezia’s bastard.

“Because I do not take up obsessions with other people, Lucrezia Borgia. I do not decide to throw all to the wind for love or enmity often. I do not need to prove to myself that I am someone worthy of fear.”

“That’s not very Borgia of you, Cardinal,” her tone was teasing now, revealing how much she knew regarding the state of his loyalties now. How he had thrown his lot in with her family’s so completely.

“Well I am adopted, you can hardly fault me.” They shared a quiet laugh then, studying one another by the yellow glow of candles. The shutters were closed and bolted, as they would remain every night he spent in this room with Lucrezia Borgia. Ascanio missed the night breezes already, and the moonlight that should be streaming in at this very moment. His soon to be official lover would look radiant in moonlight, he was sure of it. Candlelight lit up her passionate Spanish blood—but moonlight would light up the last shreds of the beautiful innocent she’d been before his cousin’s rough handling of her. The silence between them had a strange kind of ease to it, as though they had been lovers long before this. This in addition to the fact that he would soon publicly claim her son as his own bastard, adding at least one Sforza who would be loyal to him if only he stayed loyal to the Borgia family.

“Can I confess something to you, Cardinal?”

“I’m hardly dressed for it, my lady,” he said, closing his eyes and turning on his side.

“You needn’t be, not for this,” she said, her voice softer than a whisper. Again her fingertips, tiny and delicate, traced lines along his face. He would be able to marry off daughters by her far more easily than Pope Alexander had. They would be the children of Borgia and Sforza, the papacy flowing through their veins, and they would _not_ be crossed.

Her fingers ghosted over his lips before trailing down his throat to pick at the fastenings of his shift. Ascanio opened his eyes, watching her as she focused on her small task. He felt very bold indeed, then, reaching to thread his fingers through her hair. His thumb brushed over her cheek, still full and smooth, and her eyes flicked up to meet his own.

“I have not touched anyone since my engagement to Palavincini ended. Alfonso would not touch me,” she propped herself up on her elbow then, looking down at him and touching his hair as well.

“I admit that while I do not like this new plot, Cardin— _Ascanio_ , I am," she wound an errant curl around her finger, studying it intently for a moment before she looked into his eyes, "…lonely.” She hesitated then and he remembered that taking a new lover was awkward sometimes and that touch was the fastest way to calm unruly nerves. He firmed his slight touch on her hair and guided her closer, studying her bright blue eyes as they held his gaze evenly.

“Well, we can’t have that can we?”

“No,” she managed a smile then and pecked his lips with her own, “no we cannot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> And then they had all the sex in the world and eight babies.
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> What?

**Author's Note:**

> And yes they totally accuse Naples of Alexander VI's poisoning as well as the assassins in the night. It gives them a good reason to quit talks for Lucrezia's marriage and strengthen their existing alliances (read: familial and few others).


End file.
